I have my reasons for loving my "Marilyns" - my special-occasion, smoky pink, subtly-curved heel evocative-of-a-Monroesque-era glamour girl shoes. le sigh. They make me walk a bit wobbly, 'tis true, but I am more aware of my bum - of even having a bum to sway. There is that.
BUT...there are moments, where I am of two minds. Of two left feet, of two minds.
There is the issue of being desirous of something pretty (ie. shoes with instantaneous sexiness built in - the SEX-ON-A-STICK shoes), but there is also the bunion-ing resentment which builds one blistery step at a time. It arrives when your mind switches from feeling like a goddess to gauging how much farther you need to walk until you reach your destination and can remove the demon shoes! (Oh, sweet freedom!) When mind, feet and spirit cry out: WHYYYYYY?! Why to pain us sexy shoe coveters?? To what purpose? To what end? Why must one suffer for a supposed 'beauty'? Why have I taken this idea as acceptable?
[Disclaimer: there is a rather lengthy and involved discourse to be explored regarding gender and expectations, socialization, culture, power dynamics, submissiveness vs. possession, objectification, control and powers of industry, capitalist gain, etc....which I will not be cracking open here, for that is not the feel of this tiny rant.] :)
My mini rant is more about an observation that pains me (south of the ankle, to be specific) that not ONE of 'cute' shoes I have, can be worn comfortably longer than two long blocks. or ten minutes. not. one. pair. ouch to that.
As much as I have toyed with the idea of boycotting millionaire shoe companies or writing letters of frustration to mysoginisticly-bent footwear designers, I grow weary from the day's demands to pick too many a battle. The night is almost over and my shoes are nevertheless bringing me home, in one sexy, bum-wiggly piece. As much as these blistery thoughts pop up (like bubbles of misfortune from the ill-fitting foot housing), I have to reason on the concrete truth that is not so pretty: OF COURSE SEXY SHOES ARE NOT GOING TO COMFORTABLE! Of course, they are not going to be made with a cushy platform, or made bunion-producing FREE! Of COURSE NOT, you nincompoop!
If indeed there WERE comfortable cushioning in drop-dead-sexy foot housing, where would the insole producing industry be? Hello?
Where would our consumer-driven society be?
Where would foot powder industry?
Where would the cute-shoe accutrements industry be? (and, panty hoes wouldn't run with shoes that did not tug on the fabric, thereby: where would the panty hose producing industry be?)
Why, NOWHERE of course! (Don't you love rhetorical questions?)
You are not supposed to LIKE beauty products; you just have to NEED them!
Think about a Sunday morning: where would the foot cream, bunion-filing, foot soaking, aspirin eating, red wine swigging, hangover-cure drinking, contraception, Day-After pill popping, ok-you-got-a-little-carried-away wearing that bunion-it's-a-pleasure-and-pain-thing and now are slightly distressed-inquiring-at-clinics-and-labs-about-a-certain-Plan-that-comes-after-A...seriously-what-the hell-happened-it's-Sunday-morning-and-I'm-feeling-shite type realizations be?
Where ever would the feel-better-let-me-take-the-pain-away-with-OUR-STUFF-industries be?!
Why, they would cease to EXIST! And all because I selfishly wanted to walk good and speak gooder and feel pretty, and find my bum and trod with attractive footwear that does not kill me.
Selfish me!
These industries found their niche/s, and my nickel, alright. I'll give them that. I saw the gerbil wheel, and jumped into it with both blistered feet. But I don't love spending $12 on insoles for kind of expensive shoes just to be able to walk with them. (What?)
I'm not bitter. This is the society I live it, and these are the choices I have made from within it. I love beautiful things, looking at them, fantasizing through them. It's just that I would prefer to wear such lovelies, luxury items like ill-fitting but attractive lady shoes, without having to break them in by breaking my own feet.
It's just that I want it all.
In a fair world, we would not have to compromise, and I could walk footloose and fancy-free, even in clickety-clicks! That is a picture I want to entertain. Hold it...still entertaining it.... OK, done.
As I was saying, I want what I conceive of as beautiful to be ensconced in what is right. My tootsie toes are but a minutia of a greater picture. Two insignificant points from which to see greater trajectories pointing to other societal ills, other pains, other constrictions ill-fitted to the individual. Which lies are we willing to accept and why? Word has it, there are many. Like, MANY, many.
But before you curse me out for resorting to 'lady shoes' in spite of knowing their consequences, and their associated discomfort (hey, it's not like I wear them OFTEN!), for liking pretty things that don't make sense, for chasing this mythical unicorn and dreaming of comfort, quality and fairness coming to fruition in my lifetime...please do not judge me too harshly until you've walked...well, you know.
Merry Christmas. Opt for a rubber soled, low heel. ;)
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